


Primum

by Will_Mckenzie



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, I'm actualy gonna follow through on this one, M/M, Multi, hopefully
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 19:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13794543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Will_Mckenzie/pseuds/Will_Mckenzie
Summary: And I saw in his hands a bookSealed with Seven SealsThe first of which was brokenAnd behold a white horse!And he who sat upon it had a bow, and he went forth to conquer!- Extract from the Introductory trailer to Total War: Attila





	1. Chapter 1

**Augusta Treverorum**

**Gate Quarter**

**Belgica**

**399 AD**

**Autumn**

 

Tullia Fadillia walked briskly along the darkened streets of her newly-conquered home, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, and the Frankish soldiers were marching from door-to-door enforcing the curfew that Governor Nithard had set while he consolidated the city and repaired it from the siege...The Franks had destroyed the church and killed Father Ode in the siege with heir onagers. Now the church was being reconstructed, and even refurbished, Tullia assumed they were trying to lessen the blow to public order caused by the curfew and of course occupation. She saw the reconstruction of the church still ongoing past the curfew, the workmen were helped by torchlight and watched by the scant-armored guards of the Franks.

 

She continued to reminisce on the events of the past year as she headed home to the gate quarter. She lived alone, and always had from the day her father, Tullius Fadillus Gertacus, a carpenter in the city, had passed away from a swelling of the body. Tullia missed him dearly, but she hoped he was in heaven; for he had been pious all his life, and had helped many find the light of God. Tullia snapped out of her reverie as the thundering of hooves startled her, she looks up to see a messenger riding hard, she veered right and let him pass, no use joining father just yet. She could see the gate now, the elite armored guards of the governor maintained a watchpost at it as essentially district governances. Their segmented scale armor glew slightly orange in both the light of the torch and the glow of the now nearly set sun, a cry came down from the gatehouse an the clunking of the great chains resonated around as the massive wooden gate slowly opened, Tullia wondered who might be coming through, possibly more roman refugees from the other parts of Gaul, the Frankish League was carving up the northern empire and displacing many residents of Rome. Though it was not refugees who came through the gate, it was armed men,trotting in atop decorated horses and dressed in expensive mail, plate, or chain, Tullia realised who they were - the _Wodenwarduz_ \- Wodenguard. At the centre of the small mounted column was a woman that instantly filled Tullia with a cold dread as soon as she laid eyes on her. It was the infamous Gothi of the region, Hildegarde herself. They advanced past the rapidly growing (And fearful) crowd,  through the town towards the Governor's mansion, but stopped near the intersections square of the quarter.

Hildegarde raised her hand once, signaling a stop of the column and the men obeyed, halting their ornately decorated horses and looking straight forward. Hildegarde moved her horse around and trotted forwards, Tullia wondered what she was doing before it dawned on her, Hildegarde was staring right at her, and trotting towards her, fear rooted her into place, she had heard what these Gothi did to Christians, sacrificing them on an altar to their heathen gods, or playing horrific bloody games with them before savaging them with hounds. The Gothi reached Tullia and regarded her with her pale, painted face, she said nothing, just stared. _Father protect me from her...please Father, don't let her send me to heaven before my time_ she prayed, surely God would protect her, surely. Then Hildegarde spoke…she spoke six words, six words that sent chills of yet more terror along Tullia’s spine.

“Your ‘God’ won't protect you, girl” she said, calmly as anything Tullia had ever heard, as if she was greeting an old friend. Tullia blanched at the Frank, _How did she hear my thoughts!? How!?._

“The Gods, dear, The Gods, do you hold faith in The Gods?”. Tullia noticed the quarter had gone quiet, many of the townsfolk stared at her, most of them pityingly.

“No...no my lady” she said quietly to her sandals. Hildegarde laughed heartily.

“Its ‘My Lady’ then is it? You were blessed by the gods with good humor, girl! Do tell me your name…” Tullia stared at her fearfully, worried about punishment for disobedience she spoke.

“Tullia...My Lady...Tullia Fadillia”. The Gothi laughed at her again.

“You amuse me, girl...and now that I know your name I’ll be keeping an eye on you” Tullia did not like the prospect of that one bit. Hildegarde wheeled her horse around and rejoined her column, the cry was again raised and the procession trotted off to the Mansion.

 

Governor Nithard was having a good night, public order was up, Gothi Hildegarde was visiting to head the new Temple of Wodan, and a messenger had arrived to tell him that Mediolanum had fallen, he breathed a sigh of relief, the Western Roman Empire was in its true death throes, once the Eternal City itself fell, that would be it, the League would have won, and his liege would become master of the world. A _Wodenwarduz_ entered the room and offered him a slight bow.

“Lord, the Gothi is here for an audience” he said formally, Nithard nodded

“Send her in” The _Wodenwarduz_ nodded to him once and opened the door, Gothi Hildegard stepped into the room.

“Governor Nithard” she smiled “The Gods smile upon our meeting”

“Indeed they do, I trust you’ve already been told what your purpose here is?” Responded the Governor

“Indeed I have, how many nights until the Temple of great Wodan is ready for my administration?”

“At least a month, possibly two, at the worst we’ll go into early Winter”. Hildegarde smiled

“Excellent” she waved, and her two guards left the room “I have all the time I need and more, to enact the plans the gods have set me” Something about the way she said it unnerved Nithard slightly.

“What exactly have the Gods set you to do, Gothi?” he asked. Hildegarde smiled at him.

“It involves a certain Tullia Fadillia”

 

The hovel that Tullia lived in was dark and cramped, it was sort of smelly and more then a little run down, but it was what she called home. Her grandfather, Venacoles Fadillus Gertacus, had built the house nearly ninety years prior, during the reign of the Saint-Emperor Constantine the Great. She crossed the sparsely decorated room to her bedchamber and began to undress, after the days events all she needed was a good sleep, as she finished changing she knelt before her most expensive - and treasured - possession, her Crucifix, the silver cross sat upon her dresser, a holy relic she kept her piety to God Almighty with.

“God almighty in heaven, grant me the strength to pass my trials that you have set before me, and to remain on the righteous path, amen” she got up and crossed the floor one last time to her bed, she then layed down to sleep. She awoke with a start some time later to a heavy banging on her door, faintly outside the door she could hear the yells of men and the clashing of steel, she turned over, thinking it a phantom of a dream, she was woken fully by a loud crashing and a heavy metallic thump, she bolted out of bed and hid behind the wall abreast of the doorway, in the half-light she could make out the shape of a man.

“Hello?” she called out nervously. A frankish voice screamed back at her from out in the street.

“ **_Werfil huorðnsunu_ ** **!** ” it screamed, Tullia couldn't tell if it was aimed at her or not, she couldn't speak a word of the rough tongue. The man on her floor gotr up, Tullia could make out a legionnaire _Spatha_ in his hands, much like with the Gothi from the previous day, a cold dread welled up within her. _Is the city under attack? Is it Rome saving us from these Barbarians?_ She dearly hoped so, since her encounter with Hildegarde, her dread for the Franks had grown slowly. Outside in the street the Frank charged into Tullias home and crashed a sword down onto the shadowy figures, the steel made a loud clashing noise, and both men grunted, Tullia ducked back behind her doorway, her breath growing quick in panic. _God save me, please please save me._ A second voice rang out, it was closer so Tullia assumed it was the shadowy man, she was dismayed to note the Frankish accent and tongue.

“ **_Zi skamæm werdan!!_ ** ” he bellowed before another sword clash was heard, then another cry was let out. “ **_Donar!!!_ ** ” The other man replied with his own scream “ **_Woda_ ** aghhhhhh!!!” Tullia realised it was a scream of pain, a disgusting wet gurgling sound followed, followed further by  a hacking cough, she heard the noise of the man getting up and decided to risk a peek out, she noticed the shadowy man was standing up, the man from outside was in a heap on the floor, dead, Tullia scrambled backwards to light her oil lamp, she grabbed her strip of steel and struck it against the jasper, after a few tries the sparks ignited the oil and a flame illuminated the room in a fiery orange glow. _Go figure_. The light spilled out into the main room and illuminated the man and the corpse. The remaining man wore a simple white tunic and a legionnaire ridge helmet, both he and his clothes were splattered with the blood of the dead man.

“Sorry about the blood...an’ the dead man. He tried to kill me over a _huor..._ er, a whore.” Tullia realised he was speaking to her.

“Er...alright” she started, she noticed his eyes were roaming her body, and she recalled she was stark naked, her face began to color with embarrassment. The Frank began to rummage through the dead man's belongings.

“You have nice tits, by the way” he grunted offhandedly as he began to remove the dead man's chainmail, Tullia nodded absently as she ducked back behind the door to get dressed, when she returned the man had stripped the dead man of his armor and boots and was resting on one of her chairs, he seemed exhausted from his fight with the other Frank, judging by his heavy breathing, Tullia stepped out of the bedroom, clothed this time, and lit the oil lamp hanging from the roof.

“Er..” she started, the Frank looked up at her and Tullia noticed his piercing green eyes, he honestly looked as if he were about to attack and kill her too, she gulps and continued on “Why are you still...In my home? He's dead, what's keeping you?” try as she might she couldn't keep the fear from her voice. The Frank laughed.

“I’m not here to kill you too, if that's what you're worried about, we just happened to crash through your door…” he looked over at the shattered ruins of the wooden door, it had popped off one of the hinges and had a great crack in it. “My name is Dalfin, by the way, I’ll pay for the door tomorrow, least I can do” Tullia nodded in agreement, then a question occurred to her.

“How can you speak Latin? Not very many of you Franks speak a word of it”  Dalfin laughed again.

“My father taught it to me, his name was Fostilius, a Legion deserter the tribe took in” Tullia yet again nodded. _That explains the legion equipment_ Tullia thought. Dalfin stood up, getting a good look at him, she noticed he dwarfed her by a head and a bit, he was a little short of having to stoop down in her home, and he had a brown, shaggy beard from his upper lip to the middle of his neck. And he had to duck through the doorway as he he exited into the night.

“Have a good night, er…”

“Tullia” She responded quickly, eager to have the Frank gone from her home.

“Goodnight, Tullia” He left Tullia in her home, with a broken door and a bloodied corpse.

 

**Lugdunum**

**Church Square**

**Gallia Lugdunensis**

**399 AD**

**Autumn**

 

The air was filled with smoke and fire and blood. The Frankish kingdom had been besieging Lugdunum for two months, and they had finally broken through the walls, the _Legio ii Comitatenses_ had been defending the city well, and now they were pushing back for a last stand, the citizens of the city had come out to help the legions defend it, the Legion were fighting tooth and nail to beat back the Franks, from house to house, street to street, barricading off entire roads by collapsing houses, the various city squared had been turned into virtual fortresses inside the city, and the Franks had resorted to burning portions down. Neither side showed any mercy to the other, prisoners were taken and killed, their heads or penises launched back over the roofs. It was in this environment, that _Legatus_ Gaius Habitus Olympicus, found himself in, he was holed up in his command post in the central square, specifically in the Church, the bishop was nearby, praying to his god for the deliverance of the city, Gaius wasn't so sure god would help them, he would trust in the strength of his men, and his ability to train the townsfolk, the situation was nevertheless dire, if they lost one more district due to understrength defenses, he’d have to start doing the unthinkable and conscript the women, most of the male children had already been conscripted, many died on the defenses, other perished in the burning houses. A scream went up outside, and Gaius rushed out the doors of the church, a flaming catapult stone had landed in the square, killing some of his legionaries, the fire was beginning to spread by the dead mens tunics.

“Water!” someone cried “Fetch some water!” Men stamped out the small bits of fire that they could, others rescued the much needed arms of the crushed victims. One of them was still screaming, Gaius could see the man's back was crushed, he wouldn't live long.

“Someone put that man out of his misery!” he bellowed, someone in the gaggle of rushing soldiers yelled back at him “ _Sic, Legatus!_ ” he followed the man as he rushed over and stabbed the dying man in the head, the screaming man stopped screaming.

“Someone fetch the closest Decurion!” he ordered to no-one in particular “Send him to the command post!” he turned and made his way back in, Bishop Proclus was no longer praying, he had gone down to the cellar to observe the troops digging the postern tunnel, the plan was to dig out of Lugdunum if they could, and try to find the artillery and destroy it, along with whatever else they could, the work was coming along slowly, the logistics teams put the time of completion at three months minimum. One of the Decurions, Stidgilus, burst through the church doors, his armor was bloodied and rusty, normally Gaius would have punished him for the poor upkeep, but he needed every man he had.

“Ah, Stidgilus, welcome, how many cavalrymen do you have left?” The Decurion looked at him funny, Gaius remembered he didn't speak a word of Latin “Bloody federates” he grumbled, he stormed over to the downwards passage “Bishop! Get a man up here who can speak German!” A minute later a church scribe rushed up, he was a scrawny man, dressed in a musty, worn brown robe.

“L-Legate?” he bowed his head down to look at his bare feet.

“Scribe, ask how many cavalry this man has” The scribe asked Stidgilus. “Forty seven men, twenty-two horses in riding condition, there's fifteen horses who have been made lame, some might recover but he doesn't know how many” Gaius growled “Not enough to scout for that artillery effectively, tell him to go ask the federated commanders if they can see any from their defenses, and tell him to send someone who can speak _Latin_ next time!” he practically roared the last few words,causing the scribe to hurriedly relay it to Stidgilus. “Dismissed, Christian” The scribe hurried back downstairs to return to his logistical work. Gaius had no faith in the Christian god, he had little faith in the Hellenistic Pantheon either, he preferred to not think about it all as he was right now, in the middle of a bloodbath that was once a city.

  


The Frankish swordsmen charged the line yet again. Maxellus braced his shield-arm for the impact of a body onto it, a few seconds later his guess proved correct, a revolting bearded face peeked over his shield, and was rewarded by his _Spatha_ stuck in his forehead. Maxellus pulled the sword out and braced for another push, the Frank to the soldier to his left saw his kill of the man,and pushed away from his own fight to chop down his axe into Maxellus’s shield, he responded by tilting the shield and bashing the man in his unarmored stomach, driving the wind from the barbarians body, the next movement the man made was hitting the floor as the _Spatha_ drove through his neck. The Frankish levy began to draw back from the Roman line, their will to fight was breaking under the iron wall of the Second Legion.

“Back to the walls!” yelled the Centurion, the men pulled their shields from their interlocking formation and sprinted back for the makeshift gates, as the last Legionnaire got past the walls, the _Foderatus_ soldier patted the mule and it dragged a pane of reinforced wood into the slightly deep pit where it would rest. Maxellus slumped down onto one of the walls and groaned, the past months of siege had been grueling, he didn't even know if it could be called siege anymore, more like guerrilla warfare, he didn't know how much more of it he could take, a thunderous crunch rang out and one of the nearly buildings walls cracked, it then began to crumble.

“Get out of the way, it's collapsing!” he screamed at the men under it, many of them managed to scramble out of the way, many still were crushed by the debris. As the dust and rubble settled, the remaining mn rushed over to retrieve the bodies and equipment, some of the Federates, who tended to be a little stronger than the Romans, lifted the rubble where they could. Some of the crushed men lived, some might even recover, Maxellus rushed over to try and help with the clearing of rubble, he took off his battered and rusty helmet and tossed it aside for one of the dead men's better-maintained helmets. _How much more of this can we take?_ He wondered to himself. He didn’t reckon it would be much more.

 


	2. II

**Augusta Treverorum**

**Gate Quarter**

**Belgica**

**399 AD**

**Autumn**

 

When Tullia left her home after a restless nights sleep (Or whatever was left of said night), she found Dalfin resting beside her door, she hadn't realised it at first, thinking the snoring she could hear was coming from the alleyway next-door, as it turns out it was coming from beside her door, when she realised That she had freaked out slightly, she still didn’t know what this man's motives were, really.

“Er...Hello? Dalfin?” shed ventured cautiously, tapping his mailed shoulder slightly, and drawing it back quickly when he stirred from his sleep, she grumbled silently to herself for her cowardice and tapped him harder on the shoulder “Dalfin! Wake up!” this time he woke up. 

“Oh…’ey Tit-er Tullia” he said, sounding like he wanted to go back to sleep, Tullia could imagine what that slip-up meant he was thinking about. 

“What are you doing sleeping on my house?” she tapped her foot restlessly.

“Ah that? I ah...fell asleep ‘ere...Sorry...I have your money though”  he grinned a beardy grin at her as he passed her a bag of coins, it was heavy and lumpy in her hands, Tullia wondered whether or not the blotches on the purse was blood or not. She decided she didn't want to know either.

“Thank you, how much would this be?”

“Enough for a door and about a months supplies, grabbed it from a stuck up gate guard with a chip on ‘is shoulder” He grinned at her again as Tullia pocketed the purse.

“Is he still  _ alive _ ?” she asked, sounding vaguely amused.

“Errr...Maybe...I only thumped ‘im on the ‘ead” he paused to stick his head around through the door, or what passed for a door when you squinted “Ya didn’t remove ‘th corpse? Want some help?” Tullia nodded.

“Yes please, it's starting to stink” Dalfin got up off the road and walked into her home again, he hoisted the corpse up over his large shoulders with both arms and looked around.

“Do you ‘ave a back door?” Tullia nodded again and headed back in to open it, they both headed out into the back alley. “We gotta go to the gate, bes’ not scare ‘th public with a dead body through ‘th streets, eh?” Tullia nodded for a third time, she couldn't agree more. 

“Where are we taking it?” she asked him as they set off down the alley.

“To ‘th river to dump it in” he replied simply.

“Ah” said Tullia “Of course...how do you kill people so easily?” The Frank barked out a laugh.

“I've been killing for twenty of my thirty odd years, it gets easy af’er a while, wh’a about you? Ever killed anyone?” Tullia shook her head.

“No...can't say I want to” she said as they turned the corner, she could see the side of the gate from here.

“Well, girl, you migh’ wanna start learning...word is the devil's in ‘th east are encroaching, they burn everything as they come…’ope we can stop em if they ever come ‘ere” Tullia shivered at his words, she knew who they were talking about. The Huns, the demons in the east. She shook her head and cleared the dreadful thoughts. 

“Can we...focus on the task at hand?” she asked, Dalfin barked again

“Wouldent’a taken a Roman woman for one ‘t dispose corpses rather than talk about ‘th Huns!” he laughed “We live in strange times, Tullia, strange times” As they neared the gate, one of the scaled guards stopped them, he looked at Dalfin suspiciously from under his helmet.

“Why the fuck do you have a dead body?” he asked accusingly. Dalfin grinned.

“I was strolling out on a walk when I ‘eard a commotion in this fine woman's ‘ouse, I peeked in, for ‘th door was ajar, and I saw this bastard tryin’t violate her cunny, so I stopped ‘im, we fough, and he died”. Tullia had to admit, it sounded good enough to her. The Guardsman wasn't nearly so convinced. 

“Mm...I’m not believing yah...what's say I take this to the guardhouse?” he held out a mailed palm and gestured with his fingers, Dalfin fished around in his pockets and placed two silver coins in his hand, the guard grunted and waved them through with his spear, as the Frank and the Roman passed him by, he went back to leaning on his shield. The country outside of Augusta Treverorum was orangey brown in the tail end of Autumn, Tullia could hear a few birds singing in the trees, and could vaguely make out a few already dead trees in the woods.

“I never much liked the Autumn months...Winters after it and the trees look ugly” she said to Dalfin, he just nodded as he continued to lug the body, they travelled into the orange woods on the straight roman road, the city growing further away from them as they walked, occasionally they were passed by a traveller or some such person, most of whom gave the two a wide berth on account of the stinking corpse. After they had gotten a little ways into the forest, they veered off the road and onto a game trail. The silence as they walked was not uncomfortable, but nor was it companionable. Eventually Tullia couldn't stand it anymore. “So Dalfin” she started “I was wondering if you had any ah…” she scrambled for something to finish the question with “Insights into how the Franks work…?” Dalfin gave her a look before shrugging. 

“Well there's the tension between the ones among us who keep to ‘th Gods, and ‘th minority of mos’ly nobles who’ve converted ‘t your Christ” Tullia looked puzzled.

“Franks following Christ...why does that seem...strange?”

“Cause most’a us, me included, follow the Gods?” he paused on the trail to look at something, Tullia peeked around him to look, before them on the trail, was a series of marble columns they were once painted, but now they stood, mostly grey or white, the centuries of neglect had worn the paint off for the most part, behind the pillar, was a statue, the man depicted was bearded and held a staff in one hand, and had a tiny woman perched upon the other. There was an inscription on the base of the statue.

“Do you feel ‘tha...I dunno...Buzzing?” asked Dalfin. Tullia could feel it too, as she got closer to the statue, she was able to read the inscription:

 

_ Iuppiter Optimus Maximus Sirit. _

_ Deus in Capitolio Passi Sunt _ _   
_ _ Mars pater _

_ Filius Dei Solis Invicti _ __   
  


 

“I feel it...it's stronger at the statue” she looked up into the face of Jupiter, the buzzing at the base of her skull got stronger, and  she took a few uneasy steps back. “What is it?” she wondered.

“I don't know...there's feelings like this around the shrines to Donar too” responded Dalfin, setting the corpse of the dead man on one of the pillars. Tullia looked back up and the buzzing resumed its prior strength.  _ Is it God maybe? Telling us the falseness of these sites? These Gods? _ She suddenly had the thought to go deeper into the ruins, to see if these people also worshipped God as Pantheists. Heading further in she saw more inscriptions on more statues.

 

_ Iuno _

_ Regina, mater mulieribus _ __   
  


_ Mars _

_ Pater omnium Roma _

 

_ Venus _

_ Domine voluntas Dei _

 

She continued to pass by worn-out statues of false gods, many of them were ravaged too much by time to be identified, at last she came upon a great statue, still faintly painted bronze, untouched by the flora around it as the others were, the buzzing grew to a crecendo, and the inscription at the base of the statue read:

  
  


**_Sol Invictus_ **

_ Aureliani Imperatoris pater magno _

_ Pater omnium Deorum _ __   
  


 

She knew who this was. Sol Invictus, the Unconquered Sun, the roman misinterpretation of God the Father himself. The Statue seemed to warp and distort reality around it as she looked, and little phantoms of people floated around it, carving marble or painting uselessly. The buzzing was unbearable, she wanted it to stop, then she realised the people were working backwards.

  
  


**Apud Catalaunos**

**Catalaunian Fields**

**Gallia**

**274 AD**

**Spring**

 

_ Two armies were assembled for battle. The first was under the banner of  _ _ Lucius Domitius Aurelianus Augustus, Emperor of the Roman Empire _ _. The second under the banner of Gaius Pius Esuvius Tetricus, Emperor of the Gallic Empire. Aurelians army was formed up well, tight, straight ranks across the Catalaunian Fields. While Tetricus’s men were sloppy, their ranks loose and wobbly, first went the Auxiliary cavalry, charging the side flanks of the Gallic lines  The infantry moved in rapidly towards the already failing Gallic troops, as they crashed into the Gauls, a company of troops lead by Julius Tullius  _ _ Fadillia began to push its way through the gauls, cutting them down as they went, they drove through them like a lance, reaching all the way to the back of the line where Tetricus himself sat with his Praetorians, but they too were slain by Julius’s men, they captured Tetricus and held him at spearpoint, as the Gallic army realised their emperor had been captured they began to quickly rout, and the cavalry and 2/4ths of the army were sent off afterthem to kill or capture as many as they could. The soldiers surrounded Tetricus as Aurellian himself approached, guarded by two of his Praetorians, the troops parted as he walked all the way up to Tetricus. He was dressed in a suit of golden scale, his face covered by a masked golden helmet with a yellow half-rim sun jutting from the top. The two emperors stared at each other before Aurellian spoke. _

_ “You should have made up your mind, Gaius, the Palmyrene Empire fell. Zenobia has been humiliated and lies in chains, did you really think you had a greater chance than her?” his voice was deep and authoritative. _

_ “No” responded Tetricus “I did not, I wished to go out in a great last battle, for your conquest was inevitable, kill me and be done with it, reunite the Roman Empire” he said, his head was held high and he stared right into the shrouded eyes of Aurelian. _

_ “No, Zenobia will be paraded in a triumph and executed, but you will live, and be spared humiliation” Tetricus’s expression was shock. _

_ “Why? I did nothing to deserve this mercy” _

_ “Because Sol Invictus has shown me, and history has shown me, I will kill what I must, and spare what I can, just as the divine Julius Caesar did in the last century of the Republic” _

_ “I...thank you, Augustus...thank you” The Emperor of Rome nodded once _

_ “Take him away, put him in chains and keep him alive” The soldiers, including Julius, nodded and lead Tetricus away. Time seemed to speed up and the location changed. The golden statue of Sol Invictus appeared again, workers and painters busying away to make it so, overseen by Julius. He turned to the praetorian prefect next to him “Have the workers killed when they are done” he said quietly, the prefect nodded and  walked off, time sped up again, and the workers were all lined up in front of Praetorian bowmen. _

_ "Ignis!” screamed the prefect, and the workers were all shot dead. Time advanced forwards again as the bodies hit the dirt, and standing in front of the statue was Tullia  _ _ Fadillia _ _. _

  
  


**Augusta Treverorum**

**Temple of Wodan**

**Belgica**

**399 AD**

**Autumn**

 

There was an anomaly nearby. Hildegarde could feel it, someone was making contact with a god. Direct contact. She hurried out of bed and dressed in her travelling clothes, the footman outside the door knocked.

“Is everything okay in there my lady?” he asked politely.

“Fine, wake my captain, tell him to assemble the  _ Wodenwarduz  _ in the courtyard” 

“Yes, my lady” Minutes later she was outside, another footman bent down to use himself as her footstool and she mounted her horse, she leant over to the captain to hear him speak.

“My Lady Hildegarde...what did you rouse us for?”

“There's an anomaly nearby, if its the girl then I may need the help of my bodyguards”

“Is she really that dangerous?”

“Alone she's nothing but a pretty little christian, but if shes contacted one of the  _ Altgot’s... _ she might obtain power beyond any of our imaginations” 

“Shall i get the men on then?” Gulped the captain. Hildegarde nodded and her captain roared at his men. “ **Get a move on then men!** ” Hooves pounded on the stones as the party set out into the night, lead by their Gothi and their Captain.

  
  


**Augusta Treverorum**

**Shrine to Sol Invictus**

**Belgica**

**399 AD**

**Autumn**

 

Dalfin watched Tullia as she burst into a brilliant flame, her body was quickly consumed by it, before she disappeared. 

“Donar preserve me!” he screamed as the corpse on the pillar burst into flames too, and like Tullia, vanished. The statue of this Sol Invictus also began to glow red. Thundering hooves approached, Dalfin spun around and saw Gothi Hildegarde, with her full guard, they all dismounted their horses and made for him. Dalfin drew his sword.

“Keep back!” he roared at them, one of the  _ Wodenwarduz  _ advanced on him, then another, and another. Their round shields edges glistened in the glow from the Sol statue. Dalfin caught one of them in the corner of his eye, he had his shield hanging from his side, he swung at the man's neck with immense speed and the man dropped to the dirt, coughing up blood, he burst forwards and took his shield just in time to catch an incoming axe with it as the other charged him, adrenaline coursed through his system as a sword scraped over his side, he lashed out with his shield and a furious scream.

“ **_Donar!!!_ ** ” one of the  _ Wodenwarduz  _ screamed right back at him.

“ **_Werfil Wodanreizõri_ ** _! _ ” he heard. Dalfin screamed again, this time more animalistic, a blind rage began to overtake him, and his mouth began to froth, he slammed his open palm into one of the men's faces, and stabbed into another's stomach, vaguely aware of the cuts on his sides and back, but they only did more to enrage him, another man rushed him head on, dalfin smashed his face hard enough to break the nose and some of the jaw, then he slammed the round shield onto the crumpled heap of a man's neck, breaking the neck and killing him, he whirled around to see the remaining six  _ Wodenwarduz  _ drawing back to their Gothi and forming a shieldwall. Dalfin eyed them madly, his veins bulging in his head.

“ **_Come Wodenwarduz! Jamundilingus!_ ** ” he roared madly “ **_Werfil Donarreizõri! Jamundilingus_ ** **!** ” One of the  _ Wodenwarduz  _ hesitated, and then broke the wall, his shield raised in front of him, Dalfin grabbed the fools shield as soon as it was in range, yanking it from his grasp and running his sword through the man's mouth, he drew it back out and hefted the corpse up before hurling it at his foes. The body slammed into the upper shields of the last two, obscuring their vision. Dalfin charged at them, screaming and chopping his sword down, one of the  _ Wodenwarduz  _ shrieked as the blade bit into his eye, whilst the other one began to piss himself. The Gothi was nowhere to be seen. As the last  _ Wodenwarduz  _ began to flee, Dalfin lifted up his sword and lobed the weapon in the fleeing man's direction, it stuck right through his unprotected neck and he fell down, dying. Dalfin fell to the ground himself. His head was aching with a ferocity like he'd never had before and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears. Then the exhaustion began to take over him, and he collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

 

Hildegarde watched the carnage end from behind a nearby tree, all of her  _ Wodenwarduz.  _ Dead. Even the captain. What's more, the man who killed them was a berserker. She saw the berserker collapse in a heap onto the dirt, and she emerged from the tree.  _ He needs to die, he  _ needs _ to die.  _ As she reached the form of the man, she was distracted by a brilliant flash of light from the statue. It was the Roman girl. Tullia.


	3. III

**Immaterial Plane**

**21 Material Years after The Awakening**

  
  


Tullia had found herself standing in an endless field of orange grass. Or she had thought it was grass, it turned out it wasn't grass. It was fire. In the distance there was an impossibly vast black Basilica. Like the ones she knew were in Rome. Surrounding the black structure were four smaller temples, all with pillars atop them, all burning. She began to make her way towards the buildings, her curiosity mounting along with her fear.  _ What was that? Why did I see that event? How do I know the names? God please...Give me the knowledge to pass this trial _ . A voice rang out through the fiery field.

“He won't help you, not here.” it was the voice of a man, one in the prime of his life, perhaps his forties. Tullia froze in place.  _ It’s the Devil...this is one of his tricks, lord preserve me _ .  _ Help me remain on the path of righteousness _ . 

“I am not him. He exists on a different plane, as goes your god. You are in the World of the Sun. The Sol Mundi. Come to the Basilica” Tullia pressed on through the ‘grass’. The words of the voice rattling around in her head, repeating.  _ Go to the Basilica, Go to the Basilica, Go to the Basilica _ . She walked for what felt like a day, the same thought consuming her, driving her forward. As she closed in on the Basilica she passed the other buildings. The statues of the Roman Gods stood alone in the temples. Alone. At the base of the Basilica there were stairs, and she began to climb them, everything ached, her legs from the long journey, her arms from the constant movement, her body from the lack of eating or drinking, and her mind from the irresistible command.  _ Go to the Basilica.  _ Finally reaching the last sep, she was greeted by a magnificent hall. The wondrous sight took her aback. The walls were covered with murals depicting god only knows what. And the roof was a sky unto itself, clear and blue, with a sun at the very centre. At the very end of the hall sat an unimaginably handsome man. Tullia couldn't believe her eyes, her brain began to think in circles and she was vaguely aware she had dropped to her knees in awe. The man chuckled once and flicked a wrist at her, her thoughts cleared and she became aware of her surroundings again. She sheepishly headed forwards.

“My deepest apologies, mortal...I forget that many are overwhelmed by my visage”

“Thats...thats okay” Tullia responded quietly, not able to make sense of anything still.

“Have you guessed who I am yet?”

“No...I haven't a clue...are you one of the Devil’s minions then?”

“No, mortal, I am not, I am Sol Invictus. He of the invincible sun”

“You...but that's….”

“Impossible? You are witnessing me are you not?” Tullia had no response to that.

“Why did you bring me here?” She asked.

“I did not, you bought yourself here with the statue” Responded Sol. “The statue is of many gates to my realm. There are others. To God. To Wodan. To Zeus” Tullia reeled.

“They-They can't all exist at once!” she sputtered “There-” Sol cut her off

“There is only one god and he is Yahweh” He completed. “Tullia, you have been faced with irrefutable proof more than one exists. What's more is your god does exist. But you are not his favored” Her heart sank at those words. 

“I…”

“But you could be  _ my  _ favored” She looked up at Sol, her mind was reeling.  _ Abandon God for this one's favor? I don't think I should. _ Sol chuckled again. “I could give you time to dwell on it, mortal. Come to your own conclusion.” That sounded fine to Tullia, so she accepted, Sol held out his arm, an indication to shake hands. Tullia did so, grasping her hand with Sol’s. Then she found herself back in front of the statue. 

 

There was a stench of death about, she could smell, it was easy to remember, she had smelled it after an illness outbreak, and after the siege had ended and the Franks began to pile bodies for disposal, and of course from her house the previous night. She turned around to see a slaughter. Bodies of armored men were strewn about. And Dalfin. Laying in a heap on the ground, breathing - thankfully. At the centre of all of this stood Gothi Hildegarde, unblemished by blood.

“Did you…” she croaked, the sight of the slaughter made her feel like vomiting. The Gothi just kept staring at her.

“Who did you visit?” she growled. “Tell me, girl and I may yet let you live!” Tullia faltered.  _ I shouldn't tell her about him... _ Hildegarde advanced on her slowly, causing Tullia to instinctively back up.  _ Don't tell her about Sol. Find another way out.  _ Hildegarde laughed. “You are a  _ fool _ . Roman! Its Sol Invictus!” Tullia began to mentally berate herself. “Oh don't beat yourself up over it, dear. You’ll have it done to you plenty soon”

“Wh...what do you mean?” She stammered, it was torture she assumed.

“Oh yes, that and...more” sneered the priest of Wodan “Much more...esoteric exercises” she strode up to Tullia and placed a hand on her face, a low droning began in her ears and darkness ate at the corners of her vision. Then it claimed her and she saw no more.

  
  


**Lugdunum**

**Church Square**

**Gallia Lugdunensis**

**399 AD**

**Autumn**

The Franks had broken through one of the defensive walls. The legionnaires had rushed to defend the breach. Even Legate Gaius himself had joined, being at the wall in question just before an explosive pot shattered the makeshift defenses to so much rubble. A line of swordsmen charged his position, and most of them went for the legate himself, for they knew he was their enemies commander.  _ It had gotten to this point _ , reflected Gaius as he opened a man's throat with a sword.  _ I won't be able to keep this defense up indefinitely, and the Franks will keep sending reinforcements.  _ He needed to get his men a way out. Men and women now he supposed. Over the night, a fire round had destroyed a barrack and killed enough legionnaires to force the Legates hand, he had began conscripting the women. As the swordsmen began to draw back on the orders of their captain, the federates at the wall began hollering their arcris again. And then some began to break ranks and chase the fleeing men, cutting them down while oblivious to their Roman superiors orders to return. Franks began to wheel around and duel the federates. Gaius stared at the sight, an idea forming in his mind. 

“ **Get those federates back in the line! And get me a runner!** ” he ordered to whoever.

“Yes sir!” someone yelled back at him. They took off to fetch the man requested. Minutes later. Many of the  _ Foderatii  _ were being literally beaten back into line, and a messenger ran up to Gaius.

“Reporting sir.” The legate looked him over. He was like most of the fighting men. Athletic, this one was more so, he was a runner and a born one.

“I need you to go to the enemy commander and deliver him a message. Tell him i wish to face him in single combat for the outcome of the battle. If I win. His army will disperse and we will be free to go, if he wins, we will surrender to his armies mercy.” The runner looked at him questioningly.

“Sir?”

“You heard me, go” He nodded and faltered for a moment before heading off.

  
  


The Runner. Marcus Postumus, made his way through the burnt out streets at a run. The buildings were nearly all damaged, and the few that weren't were housing barbarian soldiers. Postumus viewed them with contempt as did many of his countrymen, but they had taken over the army via the _Foderatti._ And many of the High Command. And it was common knowledge among the army that Emperor Honorius was a puppet of the General Flavius Stilicho a half Vandal. For a long while the previous nights, he and his barrack mates had talked about the state of the Empire. They all agreed they needed a new emperor. One who could defend them from threats. Who was _worthy_ of their loyalty. Gladius, one of the few barbarians he actually respected because he had romanised himself, had suggested Gaius Habitus Olympicus - their own Legate. Postumus and his friends had laughed at the talk, and Gladius joined in. But now - privately - Postumus got to thinking. _He is a good commander, he's held out against these odds for nearly five months and done it well. And he's willing to end the fight via single combat. For us._ _Maybe_ he decided _The Legate would suit the purple._

 

As he neared the ruined piles that were once city walls. He saw the Frankish camp. Outside the makeshift palisade walls were at least twenty guards. They stopped him within shouting distance.

“ **Roman!** ” came the harsh cry  “ **What business have you here!?** ” Postumus swallowed a gulp before yelling back.

“ **I bear a message to your commander, from Legate Gaius Habitus Olympicus!** ”

“ **Come through!”** Called the Frank after a minute or two “ **Try anything treacherous and you will be stuck like a pig!** ” He was waved through the gate and entered into a camp - no not a camp, a tent city. Postumus felt very out of place, clean shaven among the bearded masses. Dressed in a light runners garb while the barbarians wore armors of numerous kinds. The biggest tent at the end was the size of a small building. Banners of deep blue cloth streamed from its roof. The white falcon emblem of the Frankish Kingdom emblazoned on the fabric. As Postumus neared the flap of the tent, the guards glared down at him, they were two heads taller than him both. And they were dressed in golden colored scale armor. Entering the tent he saw a decidedly spartan environment. There were tables for food. A sleeping cot. Two slaves. And a chair on which the barbarian commander sat. Next to the commander was a man dressed in black robes, he wore a hammer amulet around his next that Postumus knew as the symbol of the barbarian Donar.

“Speak” said the chief “I am Thegan. Chief of the Gundagal.” Postumus stepped forwards.

“I bear a message from Gaius Habitus Olympicus. The Legate in charge of the defense, he is willing to end the fighting now, if you will face him in single combat. If he wins your army will leave and let us leave. In the case of your victory. We will be at your mercy and offer no further resistance.” The Chief looked at him for a minute, his eyes were tired, he face was bearded and shaggy, and he was dressed in fine scale armor with golden studs along it. 

“Very well, roman, tell your Legate he will have combat at dusk tonight” Postumus nodded.

“Very good...farewell. Gods watch you”

“And you. Roman”

  
  


The sun was hanging low in the sky, casting the heavens in a fitting blood red. On one side of the wide central street was the romans. Battered and tired and hoping for their legate to win. On the other side was the Franks. Feeling much the same. Gaius stepped forwards from his line to look upon his foe, his armor was gleaming in the final lights of the sun, and its golden studs seemed to taunt him with their wealth. The Frank turned around to address his men.

“ **Franks! Give your prayers to the gods today! Pray for our victory over the romans! For the strength of Donar, for the wisdom of Wodan! And the cunning of Loki!** ” The barbarians cheered loudly, drowning  out any ambient noise. Gaius turned to his own men.

“ **Romans!** ” he started with an ironic echo of his opponent “ **It does not matter to which god you pray to in this moment, God, Jupiter, Sol, or any other, ask for their blessing upon me! This I ask of you, and if you cannot find it in you to offer any prayer, then call it along with me!** **_ROMA INVICTA!”_ ** It took a moment, but after a few seconds the cry rose up, louder then the barbarian one. Even the federates joined in. having heard the words enough to repeat them. 

“ **_ROMA INVICTA!”_ **

He turned with a satisfied smile to see his opponent. Gaius began to slowly advance on him. Sword and Shield raised. The frank attacked first, biting into the roman shield with a frankish axe. The Chief screamed a fierce warcry at him and lashed out with his round wooden shield, it drove into Gaius’s stomach and he felt the wind be driven from his body as he was sent sprawling. Thegan turned around to his army and raised his weapons as he began to cheer. Gaius began to struggle up before he was hit by the pommel of the sword and sent back down. The Frank was humiliating him. And making it showy to boot. He would not be beaten by a showy jumped up  _ gladiator _ . He rose through the pain and swiped at the Franks back.

“Come on then! You wanted a fair fight!” He taunted before striking again, hitting the head of the axe before slamming his shield against the Franks oncoming shield. Both of them lost their grip on their respective weapons as they drove at eachother with the shields. Gaius then saw an opening and drove his foot into the barbarians bent knee, pressing it backwards. Thegan yelled in pain and Gaius felt the pressure on his shield wane. He slid it across and slammed it into the open face of his opponent. As the Frankish Chief stumbled back in a daze, Gaius scrambled over to his sword and grasped it, he swung it up and over his head and felt it bite into the flesh of the enemy. The cheers from his own men were growing deafening and the chief receiving the deathblow to his skull made them all the louder. He sank to the ground, blood flowing from the crown of his skull onto the dirt.

“ **GAIUS, GAIUS, GAIUS** ” his troops cheered. Gaius did not revel in the cheers just yet, he turned to look at the Frankish warriors, watching him silently. 

“Well!?” he called at them “The deal was you let us go! Leave!” The men parted to let another Frank through. He regarded Gaius, meeting the man's height. 

“You fight well, Roman. No trickery. We will honor our agreement” he said in rough and sloppy latin. He turned to his men and began yelling at them on his barbarian tongue. Gaius nodded and made his way back to his men. The chering began again. 

“ **GAIUS, GAIUS, GAIUS** !” One of the men raised his shield, and the rest hefted their legate onto it and carried him away. “ **GAIUS, GAIUS, GAIUS** ,  **GAIUS, GAIUS, GAIUS** !”

  
  


Later, much later. Gaius awoke in his tent. They were a day or maybe more away from the city now. Camped in the hinterlands of the Alps. The women and children and everyone else had tagged along with the army, having nowhere else to go really. Gaius noticed one of his slaves standing there, head bowed to the floor, he also became dimly aware of the patter of rain on the tent roof. Outside he could hear the hubbub of talking, the odd shout of one emotion or the other, and occasionally a scream or moan of pleasure from a nearby tent.

“Slave. How long have I been sleeping?” He asked, not rising from the cot. The slave hesitated for a moment before speaking in a germanic accented latin. 

“A day and a half of time.  _ Dominus _ . It is around the middle of the night by my count. But my opinion is irrelevant.  _ Dominus _ . _ ”  _ his tone was submissive, as a slaves should be. 

“Thank you slave.” he said politely. He looked down and noticed he was in his tunic. This suited him just fine, he rose from the cot “You may get back to whatever it is that you do.” the slave bowed his head lower.

“ _ Sic Dominus”  _ he said. Exiting the tent quickly. Gaius went over to his dressing table and grabbed a few grapes to eat, then he sat back down on his cot to think. He thought about the events of Lugdunum. The slaughter, the struggle, the conclusion  _ Could I have beaten them if I’d sallied out? _ He pondered that for a long while. He was roused from his thoughts by the entry of a woman into the tent. A young woman, a pretty woman. She was one of the Africans, or maybe the Hispanics. She bowed her head like the last one.

“ _ Dominus _ . The soldiers are assembling at the centre of camp, the centurions told me to tell you” Those words sent dread playing along Gaius’s mind. He rose from his cot immediately. 

Wait here” he told the slave before he really knew why he did. He ran out into the camp to see the men in a loosely organised gaggle.  _ Please do not be doing what i think you are going to do _ he thought desperately. His fears were confirmed when the centurions kneeled before him and the soldiers raised their swords high into the air. Then the air exploded with an almost entirely synced cry. One that was loud enough to be heard for a great distance around. A cry that would spark off the last thing the Roman Empire needed right now. He felt his stomach churn and his head go dizzy as the words registered in his ears.

“ **_AVE  IMPERATOR!_ ** ” cried the assembled legionnaires. “ **_AVE GAIUS!_ ** ”


End file.
